You Lose Some
by ProcrastinatingPalindrome
Summary: Bolin is crushed after his first major probending loss and gets a pep talk from an unlikely source.


Toza reached for the bottle of fire brandy, hidden carefully in the back of the arena's supply closet, and took a long swig in the vain hope that the alcohol would dull the ache of his arthritis or the burn of disappointment. It helped with neither. At his age there wasn't much that could fix his creaky old joints, and it would take multiple bottles of something stronger than cheap fire brandy to make him feel less annoyed at that moment, not after he had just watched the Fire Ferrets get their asses handed to them in one of the most pathetic probending matches he had ever seen.

It had just been shameful, especially when he knew those kids could play much better than that. They had just recruited a new waterbender, sure, but there had been enough time for them all to adjust to a new teammate. It had been the final match of the latest tournament, so maybe the nerves got to them, but even that was a weak excuse. They had all flat out been sloppy in the ring, end of story. They didn't even last past the first round. The new girl, Saya, got pushed back and over the edge almost as soon at the match began. The brothers managed to hold on a little longer, but were still steadily pushed back into zone three. The match came to an abrupt end when the opponent waterbender had sent out a blast that knocked Bolin into Mako and sent them both flying into the drink.

Toza shook his head at the memory. Just shameful. And it certainly didn't help that he had bet a pretty yuan on them coming out on top.

To make matters worse, a rumor was spreading that Saya and Mako had gotten into a shouting match in the locker room and the girl had quit the team on the spot. Honestly, Toza wasn't even surprised anymore. Those brothers had the worst luck with waterbenders. Saya was the fourth they had gone through in the six months since their debut. The first had been completely useless and an idiot to boot. The second was a lush who couldn't be trusted to show up to a match sober. The third was a washed up has-been who should have retired a decade ago. Saya hadn't been too bad, but to say her temper was explosive was the understatement of the century; it had really only been a matter of time before one of her blowups ended in her walking off.

There was no helping it. The tournament pot hadn't been anything impressive, but it no doubt would have looked like a small fortune to a couple of kids as dirt poor as Mako and Bolin. Well, there was always next time. Toza heaved a sigh and tried to shake off the bad mood as he headed to the training room. It was late, but he still needed to clean the place up before the next day. The Tigerdillos had been the last team to train down there, and they always left it a complete mess.

The lights were predictably already on by the time he got there. He snorted in annoyance and grabbed the broom from the corner he left it in when he ear caught a soft, snuffling sound. Toza paused and put the broom back down, listening carefully. There was another sniffle, and a quiet sob. It seemed to be coming from behind the stacks of weights. Toza narrowed his eyes and carefully walked closer. The rest of the teams should have already cleared out after the match ended, and no one had practice this later. The only people left in the arena at this point would be staff like Toza, Mako and Bolin. And somehow Toza doubted that Mako was the type to hide out in the training room to have a cry…

Sure enough, there was Bolin, curled up behind the racks of weights, face buried against his knees, hair still wet from his dip in the drink.

"What the hell are you doing back there, kid?"

Bolin jumped visibly and peeked his watery eyes up from behind the protective barrier of his knees. "Go away," he sniffed damply, trying half-heartedly to inch further back into his hiding place.

"Excuse me, is this your training room? Do you have any right to tell me to leave?" Toza growled. "No, you don't. Now quit your blubbering and get your ass out here."

Bolin just dropped his eyes back down and shook his head. Toza folded his arms and weighed his options. He could just leave the kid there, really. He could sweep behind the weights another time. But still, much as he hated to admit it, Toza couldn't just walk away now. Bolin was still just a kid, only thirteen and just barely old enough to compete at all. A big loss was tough for a boy his age, and Bolin naturally tended to be a crybaby anyway, always quick to get teary over those melodramatic afternoon radio shows. But even then, this reaction seemed a bit dramatic for him.

"Last chance, kid. Come out on your own or I'm dragging you out."

Again Bolin shook his head mutely. Well fine, Toza had given him plenty of warning. He reached back between the racks, seized Bolin by his collar and yanked him out from his hiding place in one motion. It knocked over one of the racks of weights and the exertion gave Toza a sharp pain in his back (and damn did he hate being reminded of his age,) but at least Bolin wasn't going to spend the night back there.

He was still rubbing the ache out of his back when Bolin unsteadily crawled to his feet with an uncharacteristic scowl. Spirits be damned, that kid had the ugliest crying face Toza had ever seen. He was all flushed and puffy, his eyes continued to leak no matter how much he rubbed at them and his nose was running like a faucet.

"Don't give me that look, kid," Toza said sternly. "You're acting ridiculous, even for you. Cut out the waterworks and tell me what's wrong. Did you get hurt during the match or something?"

"No…" The moment of anger at already disappeared from the boy's face, leaving him looking beaten and dejected once again.

"Well, spill it already. You better not be bawling just because you lost one damn match!"

Bolin dropped his gaze to the floor, lower lip trembling dangerously. He mumbled something to his feet.

"Speak up!" Toza snapped. Whatever had upset Bolin so much had better be worth all this fuss.

"It…it was my fault we lost." To his annoyance and dismay, Bolin's face crumpled into a fresh wave of tears. "It was a-all my fuh-fuh-fault!" he sobbed, scrubbing his eyes with his fists like a child half his age.

"The hell it was!" Toza shouted, raising his voice to be heard over all the blubbering. "All three of you played like crap out there today. No sense in you taking all the blame."

"Buh-but I…I tr-tripped Mako!"

"He would have followed you into the drink soon enough even if you hadn't knocked into him." Toza's voice didn't quite soften, but he at least let its usual edge drop. "Don't beat yourself over that."

Bolin sniffed loudly, finally beginning to calm down a bit. "Mako was gonna…gonna cut back his hours at the factory. If we won the pot." He hiccupped and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "He has t-to work all the time and…and…and he always looks so ti-tired…"

"There'll be other tournaments. Damn, the pot wasn't even that big this time around. No sense crying over this one."

The worst of Bolin's breakdown seemed to be over, and Toza took that as his cue to grab his broom once again and finally begin sweeping up the room. He didn't get far; Bolin was just standing there awkwardly, sniffling.

"Aren't you going back to your place in the attic now? Your brother's gonna worry," Toza said over his shoulder, trying to give the kid a hint.

"I don't want to see Mako yet," Bolin mumbled.

Toza sighed in exasperation and threw the broom down again. "I used to be a big probender in my younger days. Earthbender, just like you. You know how many matches I lost?" He paused, waiting to see if Bolin would volunteer a guess, and continued on when the boy stayed quiet. "So many I lost count. And it's the same story with all the greats. You know Tsunami Yun and Hell Mel and Ito the Mountain?"

Bolin nodded solemnly and Toza gave him a rare grudging smile. At least the kid knew about the classic players. "Well, they all lost plenty of times. That's how you get good."

Bolin quirked a suspicious eyebrow and looked more like his old self than ever. "By losing?"

"You got it. Nothing teaches you more than a bad loss. It sucks, doesn't it? So you're gonna remember everything you did wrong this time around, and if you're smart, you won't make those same mistakes again. Every time you get your ass kicked, you'll become better if you're clever enough to learn from it. Got it?"

"I think so," Bolin said slowly, blinking his bloodshot eyes slowly a few times.

"Of course, losing only teaches you so much. You need an expert to teach you some of the good old tricks if you really want to get ahead."

"Expert like who?"

"I was a probender for longer than you've been alive, brat. I'm your expert, and I've got enough tricks up my sleeve to get you through the next tournament no problem, if you're good enough to master them."

Bolin's red eyes widened. "You're gonna teach me your moves? Right now?"

"No, not right now," Toza snorted with a roll of his eyes. "You're gonna run off and wash your face first. I ain't teaching squat to somebody with snot all over himself."

Bolin managed to give him a scowling pout before he ran to the locker room to do just that. Toza waited until he was out of earshot before he let himself laugh and picked up the broom again. The kid wasn't so bad at all. He might just be going places someday.


End file.
